Trial by Fire
by elations
Summary: When the Southern Water Tribe is conquered, Katara and Sokka are the world's last hope. But Sokka's plans never work out like you'd expect. AU, Katara/Azula are 18, Sokka 19, Zuko 20. Zutara, Sokkla.
1. Taken

**A/N: Okay, I know I should be writing Future Fire Lady, but this idea has been stewing in my head for a couple of months now. The first line just popped into my head a couple of days ago, and I had to obey my instincts! **

**WARNING: This is a dark fic. It will not be happy sunshine and rainbows. There will be character death, at some point. That's why it's M for mature, plus I'm sure I'll test my bounds on writing something lemony. **

**This is just a short little bit of a chapter, more of a test. Do you like it? Are you curious? Should I continue? Please tell me in a review!**

* * *

_This is what I was born to do. _

It had begun as any other day would in the South Pole, waking before the sun could peek over the horizon. There were so many chores to be done before the bitter cold of blizzard season set in, and being one of the youngest woman in the Tribe did not exempt me from my duties. I had to shake Sokka awake harder than usual, but other than that, I felt no difference.

Our meager existence was not much, but it was our honored, traditional way of life. I should have known the Fire Nation wouldn't leave us in peace, even though we are hardly a threat. A light snow had started somewhere between morning and noon, forcing me under a makeshift overhang outside of our family's shelter.

I was in the middle of scooping the meat out of the oysters Dad and Sokka had brought back when the day became one I would never forget. I had only ever seen the snow turn black once before, when I was very young, but I knew what it meant.

_Fire Nation_.

I recoil from the phrase as if someone has slapped me and the bitter taste of bile rises in my throat. I am outwardly calm as I carefully set down my knife and the last clam. We have planned for this day for what feels like a decade, but I am only eighteen. It has been merely five years, I remind myself with a tight throat. The day that Dad started instructing Sokka and I in our mission.

It was foolish, really, because no one knew how long it would take for the Phoenix King to overtake Ba Sing Se and the massive expanse of the Earth Kingdom. Because after he was satisfied with them, he would turn his wretched eyes to our sister tribe to the North, and then to us. We, who are so insignificant on his great maps of the world, will be his downfall.

I'm not nearly as good as Sokka, but there's no way I'll admit it out loud. He's got a cleverness that is unparalleled in anyone I've ever met (that number is few in itself) and I know that he will be our victorious savior. The thought of the big dolt saving the world brings a small smile to my face, but I let it slip when I think of the task at hand.

The village knows what to do. The elders and those who are aged closer to Dad are standing at the edge of our settlement, the young ones nervously tugging at their parents' sleeves in anticipation. Sokka comes to find me, just as we've agreed. His face is grave, and I swear he looks just like Dad in that moment.

_That's not right, we're still so young,_ I think vaguely, but I answer myself as I am apt to do. _Time to grow up._

I am afraid. I am deathly afraid.

I grasp Sokka's hand as if he were a life preserver and I'm drowning in the cold, salty ocean. He gives mine a reassuring squeeze, but doesn't look at me. I steel myself as we walk together through the crowd of familiar faces. These people, my people, who I have grown up among, are watching me with sad eyes. The adults at least, because while they don't know what I am exactly going to do, they have the tiniest inkling.

I try not to look at them.

Dad is somewhere near the front, since he is our Chief, and his face is hard like ice. His eyes soften with some fatherly emotion when he acknowledges us.

This is the last image I will have of my father.

There is a ship, just one, but it is clearly a war ship. Clearly Fire Nation. The massive metal beast bursts through ice floes as if they were tiny snowdrifts, and before I can properly gather myself, it is before us all. When it crashes into the edge of the snow, I falter as it shakes the ground beneath. Sokka steadies me, barely shaken himself, and that look of fierce determination is in his eyes.

We are ready, because this is our destiny.

This is what we were born to do.

The gangplank lowers, and the face of the man I've been taught to hate appears: Fire Lord Zuko.

He is just as repulsive as the stories say, that constant scowl and that hideous scar covering one side of his face.

I hate him.

No, I _loathe_ him.

I hate everything that he stands for, and everything that he has done. He was the one who did what the Dragon of the West could not. Taking Ba Sing Se in the name of his father had put the arrogant young man back into Ozai's good graces, but apparently not that good, since he was sent to "conquer" our patch of ice.

Guards pour out of the ship, but they have no duty to fulfill here. There will be no ruckus, no uproar today as the Southern Water Tribe is obliterated from existence. He stands proud in front of them, but what has he to be proud of? There is no pride in subduing a race of people because they're different from you.

"I claim this land in the name of Phoenix King Ozai."

Sprits, even his _voice_ is annoying. It sounds like he hasn't spoken in days, and the way it rasps is like two blades scraping together. After no reaction from our village, the Fire Lord motions for whatever a masked guard is holding off to his left. It is a Fire Nation flag, and he plants the pole firmly into the ice.

"You are all now Fire Nation prisoners. Form a single file line to board the ship immediately."

I narrow my eyes as he turns his back to us, and it's now or never. Rumor has it Fire Lord Zuko has a liking for feisty women. I drop Sokka's hand and scoop up a handful of snow, packing it quickly before launching it at my target.

_Smack!_

Right in the back of the neck, excellent. He turns around quickly, enraged that anyone should ever defy _him_. Of course, I am the first one he lays eyes on, being the foremost person now and my hands still flecked with snow. I am afraid, but I am also filled with hatred.

He stalks over to me, but I do not flinch. I meet him glare for glare, and for a moment there are no words. When I think he's about to walk away and dismiss me as a non-threat, I do what comes naturally and spit right in his face.

Surprise makes him stagger backwards a step, but he is quick to retaliate and yanks me to my knees by my braid. I refuse to cry out, to let him win. Instead I continue my defiant stare as he begins to berate me.

I want to rip his guts out.

He calls for one of the guards to bind my hands and lead me onto the ship. He just _loves_ to collect rebellious women into his harem, and none of those Northern Tribe women have nearly enough spunk, so I'll be a fantastic addition, he says. Cue Sokka, whose anger is probably real at this point, and he tackles my tormentor to the ground. Unfortunately, the Fire Lord is still holding my braid and I am plunged into the snow along side them. I splutter and gasp at the cold sting of the snow, and I am forgotten as the guards and the Fire Lord are restraining my brother. He's struggling, making death threats, some of which are quite creative, and tries to lunge at the leader of the Fire Nation again.

"I'm sure you'll make a nice plaything for Azula," the man in red sneers, and all of the blood rushes out of Sokka's face. I bet I am just as pale, because that is _not_ in the plan and the Princess has quite the reputation. We'll just have to be flexible, is all. No problem, we've got this.

I share a quick, reassuring glance with my brother while my hands are being tied behind my back before I'm roughly led onto the hulking metal giant. I don't look back, because I'm afraid I'll cry if I do.

_There will be no room for crying_, Dad had said when I was thirteen.

He was right.

* * *

My personal prison is not deep within the bowels of the ship, as I expected, but rather somewhere in the middle. Well, I suspect as much, because I can hear rusty iron doors open and shut, probably for the rest of the villagers. Where is Sokka? Where am I, for that matter? It was a stretch to assume we would be together, but I had hoped against hope.

A resigned look at my surroundings shows that there is a sleeping mat in the corner, but nothing else. With no windows, all I have to stare at are my four steely walls and the door. I sit in the corner upon my mat opposite the door, staring it down like my life depends on it. Maybe it does. After all, I'm not exactly sure what the protocol for initiating a new addition to a harem might be, but I'd guess horrible sex.

My stomach clenches at the thought, but the idea is nothing new to me. Now I'm regretting Dad's advice, to give my first time to one of the village men even if the youngest was ten years my senior. Now I will be dishonored in such a manner that it sickens me, and I clutch at my stomach to get a grip on reality.

_Be brave, Katara._

Dad's words resonate through my being, and somehow I find peace. I will sacrifice my honor for the good of the world, if that's what it takes. I don't know how long it is before someone, a guard, opens the door to my cell and tells me that the Fire Lord has summoned me.

I stand, my chin raised defiantly as I silently agree to be led. They don't hold me by the arms or bind my hands, but their posture is tense in preparation for an attempt at escape. Those fools.

I am announced when we step into his chamber, and when I do not kneel someone kicks the backs of my knees so that I fall to the floor with a thud. Nobody snickers, but I can feel their mocking eyes as I grit my teeth and push myself up from the floor.

He dismisses the guards with a flick of his wrist, and we are alone. My contempt for him has not lessened and I don't bother hiding it. He simply stares (obviously he has no manners) and finally breaks free to turn his attention to the low table near the wall. A rich, red teapot sits in the middle, steam escaping lazily through the spout.

Without a second glance at me, he settles himself upon a cushion and pours himself a cup. What a strange man, does he always begin his sexual encounters as such? With a nice cup of tea? Spirits, the Fire Nation is **weird.**

"You may join me," he says after taking a long sip. Ha, as if I need his permission to do anything! But I am resolved not to move. That tea is probably poisoned anyway. He's only pretending to drink it, of course, or he's immune to the poison. Either way, there was no way in the Spirit World I'd share a pot of tea with him!

The man frowns at me, but I couldn't care less what he thinks. He is only a pawn, a tool in the mission for the greater good of the world. I ball my fists unconsciously on my lap in frustration. I wish I could just kill him now before he defiles me.

"Your resistance will not be tolerated in public. The other women will teach you how to act."

_Yes, good. They can tell my all of your dark secrets, your weaknesses._ It's almost too easy. How will Sokka's progress be affected by being held captive by that fire witch?

I could feel my brow furrow as I thought, and I was startled out of my plotting by that pompous man. He sits his cup on the table with the force somewhere between forceful and a slam, the tea sloshing dangerously inside of it.

"You should be grateful that I saved you, _peasant,_" he practically spits at me. Clearly he thinks he's done something magnificent and demands praise for his eternal kindness. "These Southern Raiders have an abominable reputation."

"I don't need any help from the likes of _you_." I can feel my lip curl in disgust, and for a split second I consider spitting on him again, but I don't want to wear the gesture out. There's a tug at the back of my mind, but I ignore it. His face displays full on indignation and outrage.

"Should I just let the rest of the crew have their way with you then!" He snarls. It is really unbecoming of him. Fire Lords shouldn't snarl like a wild polar leopard. The man is standing in front of me and pulling me up by my arm before I can even register him moving.

With skin as pale as his, I expect his skin to be cold.

But firebenders are never cold.

His hand is uncomfortably hot as he grips my face, smushing my lips. It was almost like I was making a fish face, like I used to do when I was twelve, but it isn't so cute or funny right now. I tried to purse my lips out of habit, but he held tight.

"Pretty little sapphire in the ice, they're calling you." His voice is dangerously low now, and somehow it's sends a thrill of fear through me that his shouting could not.

He's released my face, but his hand has traveled down my neck to my mother's necklace. I hold my breath, anticipating, but thankfully (or not) he moves down to the neckline of my tunic.

"Your skin in nothing new. I'm sure they've had Northern wenches in their beds before. There is nothing outstanding about your hair or your eyes. It is your audacity." He slips his finger ever so slightly into the fold of my tunic, and I can feel his oppressive heat tingling my skin.

"They'd all kill each other, vying for the chance to be the one who fucked the little Water Tribe woman first; the one to break her spirit." His eyes were narrowed, but they lack the heat from earlier. He looks from my eyes, to my lips, to where his hand rests, to something just over my shoulder.

"You can show your gratitude another time. I have important matters to attend to. Guards!" The sudden elevation of his voice hurts my ears, but I am too busy thinking to fuss over it. Even as the masked men lead me back to my holding room, my brain is mulling over the one-sided conversation.

It is true enough that any other man should have been called a hero for saving me from lechers, if what he said was true, but he wasn't doing it for me.

He was doing it for himself.

After all, why should the crew have their turn with the "pretty little woman" when the Fire Lord could pick and choose his whores as he pleased?

Oh yes, Lord Zuko likes them feisty.

He only wants to break them.


	2. Arrival

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! I've decided to continue this little fic, and it should be quite the interesting journey. Please tell me what you think!**

* * *

I don't know how long it's been since our imprisonment.

Weeks, months?

Maybe if I knew how long it took for a ship to reach the Fire Nation, I could hazard a guess. The Fire Lord says we are within days from that filthy pit.

I've only seen Sokka once, only because I grit my teeth and begged. That superior glint in his strange yellow eyes made it hard to swallow my pride, but it was for the mission.

I made sure to add extra mockery to my bow.

Of course the guards stood within earshot while I was visiting Sokka, and I hadn't counted on that, but like I said, my brother is smarter than he lets on. When I tried to break from our greeting hug, he held me fast and whispered quickly to me.

"Katara, convince the Fire Lord to keep me in the palace. Do whatever is necessary, even if I have to be Princess Azula's consort." I could feel his mouth twitch regretfully, but whether it was for me or for himself, I still don't know.

Since then, I have seen the Fire Lord a handful of times. Today, though, is the day I plan to make my supplication. I've had enough time to get an idea of what I should say, what I should do, in my steel box of a room.

I have only been outside once, when the man had me brought to him on deck. The sun was warm on my skin and the salty sea air was welcome as it played with my long hair. Aside from seeing Sokka, this is the best thing that has happened to me since we were taken. I must have let my guard slip, because he chose the moment to speak.

"I'm not a bad man," he had said. I had rolled my eyes in response, but he held onto some semblance of calm. "Bad men don't take prisoners."

I have reflected upon those few words for a few days now. Does he really think he's the good guy in all of this? Maybe compared to his father, but he is still responsible for an enslaved world.

He did nothing to stop it.

Then again, neither did I.

But I will.

I can't see the sky, but from my number of meals I think it's around sunset, which means dinner time. My stomach growls in agreement, but I am annoyed that my captor has not wished to see me today. He's throwing everything off! I exhale in frustration, and I wonder if I could ask for an audience or something.

The guards don't seem to know either, so one of them is sent off to interrupt Fire Lord Zuko's luxurious dinner in favor of knowledge. I slide down the wall next to the door, sitting with my head in my hands. What if I don't see him again before we reach the Fire Nation, and Sokka gets sent somewhere far off? What if he rejects my pleas? I've got to think of something good! Think! Think!

The guard returns minutes later, and I'm still up a creek without a paddle. I'm being taken to His Majesty, but I better hurry up (the guards tell me) because he's in the middle of his meal. Well duh, I always plan to be the biggest inconvenience when it comes to your lot.

I'm alone before the Fire Lord so fast that I wonder if time sped up a little bit and I missed something. Naturally he looks annoyed, but he is still waiting for me to explain what could be so important that it had to interrupt.

I let my face crumple with worry and anxiety, all real, to help my case. I can tell it works immediately by the way he is suddenly alert, eyes intense upon me. I shift while on my knees as if I am uncomfortable, and begin with my performance.

"Are you really going to give my brother to Princess Azula?" My voice is quiet, and there is a trace of delicate trembling. Yes, I have practiced this many times on my father and brother, and it will ensure my victory. I'm not looking at him, but I'm sure his silence is not without astonishment. Maybe he was just taking a minute to remember the day he took us, and who my brother was.

"No. It was a scare tactic. I would not wish her upon any man." His voice is dry, but he sounds honest enough. But good liars were supposed to sound honest when they wanted to, gathering from my personal experience. I don't resist the shudder that races through my body, thinking of the Princess.

"He would do better in the ranks of your servants," I offer hopefully. As might be expected out of such a man, he rejects the idea with a stern shake of his head. He's about to say something, but I need to change his mind before it becomes set. "We're a matched set! Just think how nice we'd look at social events, how your nobles would find us so desirably exotic together, brother and sister. They'd say how charitable you are, keeping a pair of siblings together."

I can't possibly think of anything else, my head is buzzing. The Fire Lord seems to be thinking it over, though, which is definitely a good sign. People like their little collections, and they like those collections complete. How could he let a perfect pair just slip through his fingers? It made every sense to me in that moment, and I desperately hoped he would think the same way.

"I will consider it," he said at last. I was so happy I could kiss the man, except I remembered what he was and opted for inner rejoicing. I gave him a very grudging "thank you" before I was escorted back to my prison. You catch more leopard bears with honey than with vinegar, Gran Gran always said, and maybe being civil will get me what I want. I just really, really hope it worked.

That night I dream about the Avatar coming to save the world. I know it's a dream because he's just a kid and I have no idea what Air Nomads look like. All the same, I wake up with a hollow feeling in my chest. Where is the Avatar? Why didn't he stop the war from ever happening?

My clothes are getting gross. With nothing to change into and no opportunity to wash what I wear, I consider them barely passible. My parka is folded neatly in the corner. I haven't had any use for it for a week maybe? It's getting warmer, a good indicator the Fire Nation is close at hand.

I am apprehensive so say the least.

All I've ever known is my frigid (and beloved) South Pole. I've heard that the poles are the only places to have snow year round. Living without the cold just doesn't sit well with my mind.

At the same time, I am exceedingly excited.

I feel incredibly guilty (this isn't some relaxing vacation trip, after all) but something outside of the life I've always known has a sort of mystique, some alluring call to discover new things.

First things first, I remind myself. When the world is safe from the Fire Nation, _then_ I'll have time to explore the world. For now, I have my duties. And Sokka has his.

I almost groan, thinking about what he might have to face. At least I know what to expect from my position, but Sokka? He could get sent to the Earth Kingdom for all we know. He definitely can't do his part from there. I stop thinking about that situation because that would mean the responsibility of the whole mission would fall to _me_.

For the first time on the ship, I allow myself to think of my father. Where were they keeping him? Did he get different treatment, since he's the chief? Or are we just a ragtag bunch of children to be put in line to them? Where will he be sent?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Things like this frustrate me to no end, and I take my anger out on the metal wall. It's only complain is a dull thud, and my abused nerves are shrieking. I'm about to get up and start pacing with all of this nervous energy, but the ship has stopped. When did we even slow down? Someone opens my door moments later.

It's a guard, and he says we've landed (duh) in the Fire Nation (another duh) and I am to change into these clothes (which he tosses at my head). I glare a silent challenge up at his weird helmet-face, and wait for the lot of them to close the door. Only they don't.

Oh, I see. Want to get an eyeful of the exotic woman. You can look, but don't touch, right? I'm sure the Fire Lord wouldn't like that. Besides, with my wrappings on it's not very different from changing in front of my family. Well, this is what I tell myself.

Without further ceremony I disrobe, wrestling the foreign clothing onto my body. I know it's wrong when the guards snigger, and after a few more tries they stop. Assuming I have the top on correctly, that only leaves the skirt. It comes down to my knees, but there are slits on either side that come to the middle of my thigh. There are no pants, and my guess is because this gives my captor ready access to my body.

Typical.

I can hardly believe that the top is on right, because it shows a lot of skin. It's a one-shoulder type, the hem of it coming to a downward point well above my belly button. I look down at myself and immediately feel strange.

The clothing is red and I expected no less, but this red reminds me of the color of blood. I swallow the fear rising in my throat. The guards shackle my wrists in iron restraints and I think it's almost laughable how they look like bracelets with a chain in between. Any laughter from me at this point would sound like I was a maniac.

I don't think I really appreciated the gravity of my Tribe's situation until I was led down the gangplank. The sun was bright and sweltering, sweat already beading on my forehead as I narrowed my eyes at the brightness. By the time my eyes finally adjusted, I was halfway to solid ground and I realized something: there was no white, no snow, no ice.

How did people actually live here? I was grudgingly thankful for the light clothing now, because it was getting hotter by the second. I could feel the sweat make tiny tracks down my face, and I wished my hands were free to wipe it away.

There were people waiting along the dock, dressed in their reds. Some wore raggedy clothes, but most were people of wealth. It wasn't just their clothes that gave them away, but the way they looked down their noses at me as if they were gods. What they saw was an uncultured savage, it was in every one of their snooty faces.

I gave them what they expected to see, curling my lip like a wild wolf seal and making the occasional lunge as I passed them by. In my defense, I have to get my fun where I can. Seeing those prissy lords and ladies make a big to do over nothing was certainly the most entertainment I've had in a while.

I kinda sorta regret my behavior. If my people had seen me, I'd definitely die of shame. But there not here. It's just me on my own now assuming the Fire Lord dismissed my pleas on Sokka's behalf. I will do what I must to survive and right now, being a fierce, exotic woman is what got me this far.

The man leading me stopped, and I am forced to wait for La knows what. I glare accusingly at anyone who dares to make eye contact. I try desperately not to squirm as the sweat trickles down my back, but I do shift my weight impatiently. Try as I might, I cannot see much over the heads of the crowd, but I can see my people being led off of the ship. I squint, trying to discern if Sokka is among the line going down the gangplank, but I can't be sure.

There's a big boxy thing on horizontal poles making its way to the front of the crowd, and as it passes I ask the guard what it is. He laughs at my naivety to their culture, and speaks to me in a voice reserved for children or the mentally incapacitated.

"That's a _palanquin. _Only those of royal blood are allowed to ride in one. The curtains are drawn for privacy right now, or else you'd get to see the Princess and the Fire Lord."

I fall silent afterwards, following the strange contraption with my eyes until the guard yanked my chain to join the end of some royal procession. My eyes narrow at his back, and I can't help but think: _when I get out of here, you'll be the first one on my hit list bub. _

The rage of the unfairness of this life I was born into boils in my blood, and I let it. My father said it was alright to let this hatred fuel me and make me stronger, but he also cautioned against letting it consume me. I check my unbridled fury for now, only because my clenched fists are starting to shake, and my jaw aches from clenching it. A few calming breaths bring me to a functioning state, and I focus on the task at hand.

Right now, though, it seems like I've reached the end of the line. That is to say, the palace is looming in a menacing way before me. The pala-whatever is nowhere to be seen, and by the time I reach the courtyard most of the nobles have disbanded. There are still some lingering about, and when I pass they hush their voices. Their eyes glance quickly at me, and dart away as if I'm about to swallow them whole. Good.

Some big guys guarding the large stone doors into the palace cast their leering eyes my way, but I am not afraid of these men. I bare my teeth at them, a sign of contempt in the Southern Water Tribe, and from their faltering glances I surmise my message has been received. My pride is short lived, because as soon as the doors shut behind me I'm being yanked hurriedly down a narrow passage. It's dark, but I guess that's no problem if you can produce fire out of your hand.

There is a light beyond what is in the guard's hand, and before I know what's happening I'm laying on something soft. Lifting my head just in time to see a door being bolted shut behind me, I assess my surroundings and realize I am not alone.

I struggle to sit up, and realize the floor is soft because of these cushion things strewn about. Good thing my head landed on one, otherwise I might be out cold. I yank at my bound wrists, but it's no good.

"You'll just irritate your skin if you keep pulling," a soft voice assures me from behind. I whip around, almost throwing myself off balance. It's one of the others in the room, this weird room full of women and cushions, and she's kneeling before me. "I'm Yue, from the Northern Water Tribe."

She's not blind to my skin color, that's for sure. Her hair is white, which is weird because she doesn't look old. Is that some kind of trend in the North? Her eyes are kind, but threats come in many different appearances. Still, I'd like to get some information.

"Katara of the Southern Water Tribe," I offer in response. "What is this place? Why are you all here?" I could have been a tad less harsh, but dammit I wanted answers. The woman gave me a sad smile before answering in a hollow voice.

"Welcome to the harem, Katara of the South."


End file.
